


Kind Touches

by frankcastles (Deathtouch)



Category: Daredevil (Comics), Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, Punisher (Comics)
Genre: Crying, Emotional, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, Emotions, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, vulnerable Frank
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-05
Updated: 2015-12-05
Packaged: 2018-05-05 04:24:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5361299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deathtouch/pseuds/frankcastles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>☛ in which frank breaks down </p><p>
  <i>“It’s okay.” Matt told him, half scolding. “Not everything has to hurt, you know.” He had no idea just how hard he’d hit the nail on the head with those words. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kind Touches

**Author's Note:**

> unbeta'd! all mistakes are my own!

Frank went to Matt when he was in a bad way.

Someone had told him once, or maybe he had heard it in passing, that if humans go too long without feeling any kind touches to their body it does bad things to the brain. Even if it was just a hug for a brief fleeting moment, or a hand shake. Humans craved touch, and they needed positive contact to survive.

Frank wasn’t sure that was true. If someone looked him in the eye and told him he just needed a hug they’d get their teeth knocked out at the very least for their trouble. Although after he heard it he couldn’t get that idea out of his mind.

He saw couples holding hands, and fathers tucking back wisps of their daughters hair, old friends greeting each other with a kiss on the cheek. 

It made him angry. Furiously, uncontrollably angry. All the kind touches in his life had been ripped from him, gunned down by the mafia. He would never get to run his fingers through his daughters hair, or hold his son’s hand, or give his wife another kiss. He would never get to hold, or by held by any of them ever again.

Sometimes these thoughts fueled his vengeance, and sometimes they defeated him. More often than not, Frank felt defeat.

It used to be that Frank would only go to see Matt if he needed something, usually to pull in a favor. They weren’t really friends, and they didn’t exactly agree on things, but they had enough trust between each other that Frank could break in to Matt’s place unannounced and get little to no flack for it.

It was just a casual thing when Matt would put a steadying hand on Frank’s shoulder. It was something normal people did. It didn’t mean anything. In any other situation it shouldn’t, and to Matt it didn’t, but Frank found himself desperate for that touch after the first time he felt it; just a hand on his shoulder.

It was his one kind touch to keep him rooted. It kept his brain from going to a bad place. It stayed the shakes, and some of his bad dreams. He knew deep down that a hand on his shoulder wasn’t enough. It was just a thread and it wasn’t going to keep him stitched together, but for now it was working. For now it was what he counted on.

He might have started showing up more often after that, spilling into Matt’s kitchen after fights all bloody and beaten. Matt offered to clean his wounds sometimes, but that hurt as much as it helped and Frank found it hard to count those touches as kind ones. It was the one on his shoulder that counted.

Frank wasn’t expecting it when one night Matt tucked his black hair back, brushing a loose piece away from his forehead. Frank flinched. How else was he supposed to react to that?

“It’s okay.” Matt told him, half scolding. “Not everything has to hurt, you know.” He had no idea just how hard he’d hit the nail on the head with those words. 

That was the last straw for Frank. He needed it. He needed to be touched. He needed to touch somebody. He couldn’t get his hands on Matt fast enough. He grabbed him by his waist and pressed their bodies flush against one another, desperate for the contact. Frank tangled his fingers in Matt’s shirt, and pressed his face in the soft curve of his neck, vying for anywhere that skin could touch skin.

It should have stopped there, that should have been it, but Matt was encouraging and kind and he told Frank “it’s okay,” and “take what you need,” and he just let it happen. Frank spent half the night holding Matt in his arms, and Matt held him back and didn’t let go.

It should have been hard to come back after that. Frank should have been embarrassed. He should have convinced himself he didn’t need this. He should have fought the urge harder, but when he saw Matt again all Matt had to do was open his arms and Frank went weak.

Frank wasn’t sure how it devolved into sex. The nights he spent in Matt’s arms blurred together. One night they were just holding each other, and the next night they kissed, and the next night it was sloppy hand-jobs, the both of them panting and gasping.

Matt got laid a lot, there was always some pretty girl who had her eye on him. Frank… didn’t. He couldn’t remember the last time he… …and he didn’t like to touch himself anymore…

Though Matt was willing, Frank was averse to idea of one of them going down on the other. There was no intimacy if Matt was between his knees instead of in his arms. That was what Frank liked, the intimacy of it not the orgasm. Matt offered to take Frank to bed instead of going down on him. That vaulted them forward to something Frank wasn’t sure he was ready for.

He wasn’t sure he should be doing any of this at all, much less having sex. Well, actually, he _was_ sure whether he should be doing this, and the answer was no he shouldn’t be. He needed it regardless. He needed it too badly to stop.

It wasn’t hard for Matt to convince him. The real allure was curling up under the covers, holding and being held, bodies intertwined.

The first night in bed they didn’t even take off their clothes. Matt kissed Frank on the mouth and undid the button and fly of his black jeans. He pumped Frank’s cock with his fist within the confines of his pants, staining the dark fabric with white. Frank returned the favor, and they kept their lips locked the whole time.

It was overwhelming. A few months ago Frank counted on a hand on his shoulder to get him through the day, and now he was wrapped up with another person, so close and so personal.

He cried after Matt came, and he knew he was being pathetic and sorry but god it had been so long. So goddamn long. So long since he felt this connected to another human being. So long since his body had received so much kindness and attention. He felt undeserving. Matt just hugged him, and held him till his crying stopped.

Sex did eventually happen. After more hand jobs, and frotting on the bed. Real sex. Not just jerking each other off. It took a while, but it happened. Matt made it easy. He had condoms, and lube, and this really understanding way about him that without saying it said ‘we can stop if you want to stop’. Mostly they let it progress slow and steady; hugging and kissing escalating until they both wanted and needed more.

It was harrowing at first. Matt opened Frank up with gentle fingers. It didn’t feel bad, it just didn’t do anything for him. With Matt’s hands busy, there was no one to hold him. All he could do was lay on his side with a knee drawn up to his chest and wait for the preparations to be over. Matt insisted that this needed to happen first and he tried to sweet talk Frank through it but the words did nothing to ease him through the despondence he felt while being scissored with two fingers.

Frank was guided to lay on his back after being slicked and readied. He was grateful to move on with the proceedings. Matt’s cock was stiff and hard, protected by a condom and wet with lubricant. He settled between Frank’s thick thighs and reached down to guide his cock inside.

It hurt. Frank had felt worse of course, he’d been shot half a dozen times in his life and the pain he felt now was minuscule in comparison. It was just that he needed care and kindness in that moment and the stinging pain he felt as Matt entered him was the exact opposite of that.

Frank was almost about to tell Matt to stop when Matt’s cock brushed along something inside of him. Some part of him that lit the base of his spine afire with pleasure. Frank’s own cock thickened and his breathing hitched. His hands scrabbled to reach out for Matt, suddenly desperate for more touch. His vision blurred with tears and a low noise escaped his throat.

“Are you okay?” Matt breathed, his voice was a little strained. “Does it hurt?”

“No,” Frank lied. It hurt and it didn’t. He didn’t quite understand. All he knew was that he needed more of Matt. “Keep going.” He added, big tears falling from the corners of his eyes.

“Okay,” Matt nodded, thrusting in as far as his cock could go.

Frank cried out in earnest.

Matt was gentle with him. He fucked Frank lovingly and with care. There was no furious pounding away, no frantic pace, no sloppiness or wild abandon. Matt took his sweet time. He rolled his hips in a slow motion, a practiced rhythm that seemed to last endlessly. He held Frank’s waist and stroked fingers over his skin, trying to offer as much touch as possible. Frank was grateful.

It felt good, but Frank needed more. “I want you closer.” He begged.

Matt slowed what he was doing in order to consider. His breathing was heavy and his skin was slicked with sweat. “Sure,” he nodded. “Okay, Frank. Just relax.”

Slowly he maneuvered, with his hard cock still deep in Frank’s body, into the missionary position. Instead of kneeling between Frank’s legs Matt lay his body gently atop Frank’s.

Their chests touched, skin on skin. Matt tried to plant his hands in the mattress in order to keep a little leverage, but Frank clutched him so close in a hug that it was near impossible. Frank found Matt’s lips, hungry for a kiss, and Matt kissed back softly.

The feeling of lips on his own set Frank’s back into an arch. He inadvertently squeezed up tight around Matt’s cock which made Matt moan. They kissed a while longer, but eventually Matt drew back.

He lifted his face just enough to get a look at Frank’s. “It’s okay, Frank.” He whispered to him.

Frank nodded, but his voice was all choked up and he could feel his bottom lip trembling.

“You’re crying so much…” Matt extrapolated an arm from their tight embrace in order to reach out to brush the tears from the corners of Frank’s eyes.

“I’m sorry.” Frank whispered, voice breaking.

Matt shook his head. “Don’t be sorry, just let me take care of you.”

When he moved his hips again it wasn’t quite the fluid, full range of motion he had before. This was better though. Even with his shorter, choppier thrusts, he managed to hit that spot inside of Frank that made his whole body warm over with electric tingles.

The pleasure broke over him like a tidal wave. One moment he was crying in earnest with the sensation of Matt’s cock pounding into him, sending sparks throughout him. The next moment he was coming, raw and real. It ached in the best way. Matt held him, and fucked him through it, and the feeling of arms around him put spots in Frank’s vision.

He sobbed through his orgasm. He felt weak and pathetic but he didn’t care. This pleasure, the pleasure of contact and closeness, had been denied to him for so long and now it had reached it’s summit. What else could he do but cry?

Matt finished off with more thrusting and a few grunts. He tried to pull out when his own orgasm was said and done but Frank stopped him, begging him to stay inside a while longer. Frank refused to let him go. He needed Matt to stay with him. He needed this intimacy.

Surprisingly understanding, Matt stayed as he was. He cradled Frank until his tears stopped, softening cock still nestled deep inside of him.

Frank had thought about spending the night plenty of times before, but that was the first night he actually did. He was wholly unprepared for the sex, and the way it made him feel, and couldn’t bring himself to leave Matt’s side.

It was everything Frank had been missing. Well, not everything, but he’d forgotten how good it felt to be that intimate and that close with someone. It was something he’d been longing for all this time without realizing. It was what he’d been so angry about, and so hurt by. It was what defeated him mentally. It was what locked him into being an unfeeling machine.

Honestly Frank hadn’t cried like that since… since…

This was a different cry, of course. There was still grief, and pain in it, but it came with relief. It came with clarity, and the realization that not everything had to be just grief and pain.

“Thank you.” Frank whispered, hoarse and tired. Not for the sex, or for the climax, but for showing such care and for touching him so kindly.

“You’re welcome.” Matt granted him. “I wanted to do this, Frank. I can do it for you any time you need it.”

Frank nodded. He didn’t know if that was totally true, that Matt had really wanted it as much as his tone implied. A small, suspicious part of Frank expected Matt had ulterior motives. Maybe he thought soft sex would quench some of Frank’s thirst to punish. Frank didn’t know, and he couldn’t prove either for sure. What he did know was that he would be taking Matt up on the offer.

Frank skipped out on coming over just to be held, or kissed, after that night of sex though. There was still vengeance to be wrought no matter how Matt made him feel. He had places to be, and people to kill. Outside of Matt’s bedroom he was just as cold and calloused as ever. Nothing would change that. If The Punisher and Daredevil ever crossed paths Frank would still break a few bones should Matt get in his way. They weren’t lovers now, or significant others.

No, none of that. Frank only went to Matt when he was in a bad way.

When his chest ached and his soul felt heavy and when he was scared his mind would go somewhere bad if no one touched him kindly soon. When his shakes came trembling back. When he couldn’t sleep because Maria’s bloody body waited for him behind his eyelids.

Matt always greeted Frank with a kind touch on his shoulder. Then he would open his arms, and take him to the bedroom to remind him just how kind certain touches could be.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading
> 
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